


An Elorcan Pregnancy

by hermajestymanon



Category: Throne of Glass - Fandom, sarah j maas - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:47:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8300452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermajestymanon/pseuds/hermajestymanon





	

Rowan and Fenrys had traveled with a pregnant Elide and Lorcan to the Wastes to meet with Petrah about finishing the rebuild of the Wastes. Lorcan had convinced him that they stay until Elide had her witchling.   
Terrasen was safe in Aedion and Lysandra's hands and his mate and children were in Rifthold and had been for the past three monthes. Apperantly Sam and Lyria had gotten quite attached to Manon and Dorian’s witchling and wouldn’t leave him.  
The golden haired witch, Petrah, had taken up a mantle of helping Manon with the Wastes while she was in Adalarn.  
“As you can see, Elide, the rebuilding has been a success. Granted, the Ironteeth are still on edge about sharing the Wastes with the humans and the Chrochans, but we are all working towards peace.” Petrah said, a crown of stars adorning her head. She had taken up the mantle after her mother died in the war, “But there are some rebel groups that we have been trying to wash out. They are well hidden.”  
Absently rubbing her stomach, Elide said, “The Yellowlegs?”  
She nodded.  
“Iskra’s coven hasn’t forgiven the death of thier leader.”  
“The witch had sided with Erawan.” Lorcan growled.  
“Still. Blood calls for blood.”  
Elide frowned, “It was war. Surely they know how war works. People die, even coven leaders.”  
For a fraction of a second, there was pure sadness in Petrahs eyes, no doubt thinking of her mother.  
Elide realized what she said, “Petrah, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”  
She waved her off, “No, you are correct, Elide.”  
Rowan stiffened, he could smell blood. A lot of it. He looked at Lorcan then at Fenrys.  
Fenrys winnowed.  
Lorcan stood  
Appearing, Fenrys said grimly, “Your walls have been bretched.”   
Rowan took out a blade, there was battle sounds from the floor beneath them, in the mountains.   
Looking at Elide, Lorcan said “Stay here.”  
Elide looked like she wanted to argue, but nodded, a hand on her stomach.  
Rowan looked at Petrah, “You will protect Elide, is that clear? No harm comes to her or her witchling.”  
Petrah looked at Rowan then at Lorcan then Elide, “We take care of our own. Neither she nor her witchling will be harmed. Not if I have anything to say about it.”  
Lorcan kissed the top of Elides dark head and looked at Rowan then Fenrys, pulling out a long blade, “Let’s go hunting.”

Elide’s heart was racing. He husband, king and friend were down there, fighting no doubt a part of Iskra’s coven. She wished she could help, but she was pregnant and the life of her unborn witchling comes first.  
Petrah was standing between the doorway and Elide, claws out, looking like a goddess in her own right. Unbound gold hair cascaded down her back.  
Elide was sitting in a large chair, holding her stomach.  
Don’t worry, baby. You are loved and protected. You will not be harmed. I won’t let anything happen to you, Elide thought, sending a prayer to Annieth.  
A dark skinned witch came through the doorway, claws out, poising to strike, “Well, well. It’s little Elide,” she crooned.  
“I will give you one chance to turn around and leave. You do not harm a pregant witch. It is one of our most sacred laws.” Petrah growled, blocking Elide from the witch.  
But there was such a bloodlust in the witches eyes. She wasn’t going to listen, Elide knew it. She was going to attack.  
“People die in wars, Petrah. Even mothers.” the witch mocked, striking at Petrah.  
But she was faster, Petrah pierced the witch in the chest, pulling out her heart, blue blood ran down her claws.  
Turning to look at Elide, Petrah said, “get underneath the table and hide there.”  
Elide moved quickly, hiding underneath the table. She felt like a coward. She was hiding, but she thought of her witchling. She would protect her.  
She heard a scream. Full of hate and pain, “Kirke,” a fair skinned witch looked at the dead witch and then at Petrah, her gaze was world ending, “witch killer.”  
“Leave hekabe. You know the penalty for attacking a pregnant witch. Dont make me kill you too.” Petrah said, gaze hard.   
Elide knew that it killed Petrah to be killing fellow witches. But she was doing it protecting her and her daughter. She would nefver forget this kindness.  
Hekabe raised her chin, debate shone in her blue eyes, “You will die, Petrah Blueblood. But not by me. You are a Witch Killer. Live with the shame of killing a sister.”  
A shadow flickered in Petrah’s eyes, “I will not feel shame for protecting a pregant witch.”  
Hekabe turned around and left the room, Elide knew the witch would see the mercy of Petrah sparing her. She now owed Petrah and Manon a life debt. She wondered how it would be paid.  
Elide felt a brief pain in her lower back, fear went through Elide. Please no.  
Petrah sealed the doorway, no one will be able to come in. Aelin had shared with Petrah how to use wyrdmarks a few years ago.  
Petrah moved Kirke’s body, blue blood trailing with her.  
Another pain flashed through Elide’s lower back, Please no. Not now. Not in the middle of a battle.  
Turning to her, Petrah looked at Elide, grief shone in her blue eyes.  
“Everything will be alright, Elide.” said Petrah, silver stars glimering in the fireplace light.  
Elide felt a warm wetness between her legs, “No, Petrah. I don’t think it will.”

 

Lorcan, Fenrys, and Rowan all fought side by side by side. A small unit of Yellowlegs had tried to take over the witch kingdom. A few had retreated, including a blue eyed- fair skinned witch. Hellas, himself, was telling Lorcan to let the witch go. Perhaps she had a part to play in the future.  
He looked to Fenrys, who was in wolf form. He was ripping out throat after throat. Blue blood coated his white fur. As did red. He must’ve been wounded. Rowan’s arms had several cuts on them, no doubt from the claws of the rebel witches.

\----

Elide was on her back, legs apart. Her witchling was coming. And she was coming fast.  
“I need you to breath Elide.” Petrah coached, kneeling before her.  
“Ha-have you ever delivered a witchling before?” Elide asked.  
“Not personally. But I have asissted,” Petrah said, “Do not worry, your witchling will be okay.”   
A flash of pain wrapped around her abdomen, elide let out a strangled cry, but she nodded at Elide.  
Petrah looked between Elide’s legs, “You need to get ready to push. Your witchling is coming.”  
Elide tucked her chin, readying herself. It’s time. She thought.

\----

Covered in blood, Lorcan looked around. No witch was left other than the ones who fought with him and his.  
“Lorcan,” said a black haired witch. Edda.  
Lorcan looked at her, urgency in her eyes, he ran. Something was wrong with Elide.

\---  
Sweat was trickling down Elide’s neck and tears were threatening to spill. Gods. It hurt.  
“Push” ordered Petrah.  
Elide squeezed shut her eyes and pushed.  
“She’s crowning,” Petrah said.  
From across the room, “LET ME IN.” a voice growled.

__  
Lorcan reached the room and slammed into an invisible wall. He growled, echoes reaching down the halls.  
He pounded on the shield, “LET ME IN!”

Rowan could hear Lorcan bellowing from the floor below. It shook the walls. He could hear the grief and fury. Why can’t he get through the doorway? Wyrdmarks. Aelin had taught Petrah how to use them. She must have sealed herself and Elide in the room to protect them  
If he was bellowing in such a way, something must be wrong with Elide. Rowan shifted, flying up the stairwell to Lorcan and Elide.

\---  
Lorcan looked through the shield. His wife was in labor. She was having the witchling and he couldnt get to her. To them. Tears of rage were in his eyes, “Elide!”  
He banged on the shield. It didn’t budge. He blasted it with his dark magic. The wall still held. Why didn’t Aelin teach him about how to use wyrdmarks? He should have learned them when she offered. He wanted to rip someone apart.

\----  
Elide could hear Lorcan from the other side of the shield. Tears were streaming down her face now. He couldn’t get to her and she couldn’t get up to go to him. Neither could Petrah.  
“Come on Elide, one more. Okay? Just one more,” Petrah was coaxing, “I’m sorry, I can’t go to him and break the wyrdmarks. You are too far along.”  
Elide looked at Petrah, her eyes swimming. Setting her mouth, chin to her chest, She pushed with everything she had.

\----   
Lorcan watched his mate. She had such a quiet strength. She gave her all. Then he saw it, he saw her. His daughter. A shock of black hair, such dark eyes and such smooth skin. A perfect mix between his dark and Elide’s light. Lorcan sank to his knees, his hand on the shield.

Covered in witch blood, Fenrys shifted back into his fae form and winnowed to the top floor. He had heard Lorcan’s bellowing. He was pretty sure that a deaf man could hear it.  
He and Rowan had got there the same time. From the state of Lorcan, he’d wager Elide had her witchling and he was near feral from not being able to get to her or the witchling. But why wasnt he with- wyrdmarks. 

\---  
Rowan looked at Lorcan, slowly, trying not to further trigger his feral side, he said, “Lorcan. What’s wrong?”  
Lorcan turned his dilated black eyes to him, and snarled, “Get me in there, now.”  
“Calm Down. Now.”  
Lorcan growled again, but took a deep breath, his eyes more humane.  
Rowan assessed him. If he was feral, he would do more damage than good. Pleased with the change in him, he slowly took out a blade and cut his forarm deeply. Blood running.  
Turning to the doorway, he dipped a finger in his pooling blood and drew a series of lines, carefully, exact, on the doorframe. After a few seconds, a shimmering made the shield on the room disappear.

\---  
Lorcan barreled into the room the second the shield disappeared.  
Taking Elide’s face into his hands, he looked and then scented her, checking for anything wrong.  
“I’m okay, Lorcan,” Elide said, into his bloody shirt, “I’m okay. We’re okay.”  
“Elide,” he murmured, then wrapped his arms around her, face in her hair.  
From behind him, Petrah said, “Lorcan, Elide.”

\---  
Elide looked at Petrah, she was holding her daughter. Her daughter. The babe now wrapped in a red blanket, black eyes fixed on Elide.  
Letting go of Lorcan’s tunic, Elide reached up taking her daughter, bringing her to her chest. She was beautiful. Black hair, dark assessing eyes. Thick lashes.   
Elide leaned down, kissing her child’s forhead. It was warm and so soft.  
In that moment Elide knew three things. One: that she would never let anything happen to her child. She would never be chained to the ground. She would be able to run and be free and see the world. She would never be trapped or have to face the horrors she and Lorcan has faced. Two: She knew. She knew why her mother had sacrificed herself for Aelin. She didnt do it jusrt for her country or for her queen. She did it for her, her daughter. And after looking at Lorcan, he knew too, number three: her name was Marion.


End file.
